Reaching For Avalon
by Sela McGrane
Summary: Muggles called it Nirvana, wizards called it Avalon; the absolute stillness of mind after the fires of desire, aversion, and delusion have been finally extinguished. For Hermione and Minerva, the journey is about to begin. - A co-write from Sela McGrane and Twisted DKat
1. Chapter 1

**Firstly, I want to note that I am (I promise) MegaNerdAlert. I'm hoping to start publishing my own original work in that not so distant future, and wanted to change my user name to a name that was, for want of better word, marketable. I beg forgiveness for any confusion, but for reference sake: Mega is Sela, Sela is Mega. Get it? Got it? Good!**

**Secondly: This amazing plot bunny is the joint work of myself, and "Twisted DKat". Kat and I were chatting one evening a couple weeks ago, and decided to give a go at co-writing. Our plan WAS for this to be a 10 chapter story, but as we've continued developing the idea, it has evolved into something much, much longer. When I say "much", I mean we may give "Bonding" a run for its money. We only hope that the quality is up to your standards, dear readers. **

**I know that I am personally known for not finishing stories, but with Kat and I working together, it is my hope (and yours too, I'd imagine) that she be the drive that keeps us writing. She is just awesome like that. So, sit back, hold your breath, and enjoy the insane ride that is an alternate universe fiction revolving around our two favorite ladies, Minerva and Hermione. Count on new characters, and new spins on old ones. Look forward to delving into the history of the Wizarding World, and a beautiful world yet to be. **

**Without further ado - we present "Reaching For Avalon".**

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><p><strong>Prologue:<strong>

A tall, grey eyed man sat in an old library, pouring over tomes that nobody had looked at in years. If someone had seen him there today, they would have wondered his age; he looked young, but in the same stroke he looked quite old. It was not an uncommon appearance for those who had recently survived a war. Of course, no one saw him here today, as he wasn't supposed to be there. This particular man did a lot of things he wasn't supposed to, but that was his legacy.

Breaking the boundaries of light, dark, right, and wrong was something his father had been known for. Taking magic to its outermost limits was what Tom Marvolo Riddle would be remembered for. He'd been dead since his son was three years old, but wizards, witches, and other creatures within the magical community still shivered at the name '_Voldemort'._ Unlike his father, the man who would be King did not seek to be feared. Respected, yes. Obeyed, certainly. That said, there were other ways to gain loyalty than through fear. Power and money, or both combined, could claim the hearts of men just as well.

"I will be King," the dark haired man murmured, pouring over a book which detailed the rule of Arthur, a pureblood wizard who'd long ago been King over wizards and muggles alike. More people today remembered Merlin, and certainly that sorcerer was renowned in his own right, as the greatest wizard of that age, and while he certainly was the greatest when it came to spellcraft, Arthur was a far superior Potioneer. One text spoke of how a potion had been used in the process of Arthur's conception, and that was why he was so gifted at the subject. Also unlike Merlin, Arthur had the bloodline that befit a ruler. The Pendragons had been a powerful wizarding family for a hundred years before Arthur was even thought of.

"My lord?"

Steely eyes lifted, a black beard on a pointed chin coming into view from behind the book. "Yes, Aramus?"

"We'll be getting company in less than half an hour," a thickly built, black haired man stated.

The King to be nodded curtly to his manservant. "Very well. I'll replace the books to their shelves, and we'll go back to the Manor. I think I've found what I was looking for."

"Arthur's instructions?" Aramus asked.

"Even Nicolas Flamel never knew about this book," came an arrogant chuckle. "And Dumbledore was a fool to think that destroying that sad excuse of a Philosopher's Stone would prevent someone from making another, better one."

"Very good, my lord," the manservant nodded. "Now let's go before the Goblins get here."

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><p><strong>PLEASE REVIEW!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1: April 18, 2002**

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><p>Madam Hermione Granger, Healer, paused in her tending of a student's abnormally large front teeth as her employer's Patronus appeared. The student, a third year Hufflepuff called David March, looked fearfully at the glowing, blue spectral phoenix. "It's alright, Mr. March," Hermione assured the fourteen year old. "It's only a messenger from the Headmaster."<p>

"_Hermione, I've just located a student in the third floor corridor_," the Patronus said calmly. "_I believe it unwise to move the child without you being here._"

"Go tell Albus I'll be along in a moment," Hermione directed.

The phoenix vanished in a flash of light, and two minutes later, Hermione dosed Mr. March with a Sleeping Draught and left him to rest while his teeth slowly returned to their normal size. Hermione grimaced, remembering when she herself had been struck by the same curse during her own Hogwarts years, and how painful the process of shrinking the teeth was. Poppy had not let her sleep through it, and Hermione had no idea why not. Of course, Poppy was a tough as nails witch that never gave a drop of pain potion without being practically begged for it, so it was not really a surprise.

Cursed student now sleeping through the worst of being put right, Hermione cast a monitor charm on his bed and began to make her way towards the third floor corridor, where presumably, Albus was waiting with another injured student. While she'd been in attendance here, Hermione and her friends - her three boys - had gotten injured often enough, and ended up in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing several times a year at least. That said, nothing could have prepared Hermione for the reality of just how often students here were injured. Nearly a full school year into working here, the young Healer spent most nights falling into bed and passing out at once; the students kept her busy.

Hermione grimaced, remembering all the trouble that she, Harry, Ron, and Isaac had gotten into. Harry, much like his father James Potter, had played Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and that had led to plenty of injuries. Ron, the youngest Weasley male of that generation, played Keeper on the same team, and was often in the hospital wing for the same reason as Harry. Isaac had been more like Hermione - bookish - though he had a passion for Dueling and did so as often as he could find a reason for it. It had served him well though, as he was now right hand to his father, Marcus McDowell, on the Auror force. Mr. McDowell was the Head of the department, though he still liked to go into the field sometimes. Harry and Isaac both often regaled her with tales of fighting dark wizards with their respective fathers. Ron had also become an Auror, though he was the only one of the Weasleys who did.

Dark Wizards indeed, Hermione mentally chuckled, thinking of the boys' latest tales from work. There hadn't been a real Dark Wizard around since Professor Dumbledore had killed Tom Riddle, also known as _Voldemort_, on September the first, nineteen eighty-two. When all three of her friends had decided to become Aurors, Hermione had decided that a peaceful wizarding world didn't need her to become one too - instead, she'd gone into Healer training, under Poppy Pomfrey, figuring that after all those years of looking after Harry, Ron, and Isaac, as a Healer she could keep on doing it. She'd do anything to keep those boys from harm. Absolutely anything.

"Hermione, here!" Albus' voice called.

The young Healer picked up her pace, coming to where the Headmaster was, and kneeling next to the form of a female student. The girl was stiff, her limbs rigid. Hermione nodded to Albus, and he helped her turn the student, who was laying flat on her face, over. "Oh, gods…" Hermione gasped, identifying the student at once. "Isobel!"

"We should get Miss McDowell to the Hospital Wing," the Headmaster said quietly.

"When was she found, how long has she been like this?"

"The students had all just entered their classrooms, five minutes prior to when I found her. This isn't rigor mortis. She isn't dead, but this could be just as bad. I believe she's been Petrified."

"Petrified, Albus?" Hermione asked, fighting the urge to break down in tears. Isobel wasn't just any other student. She was Isaac's little sister, and more than that, she was Hermione's protege. "That hasn't happened since the end of the war!"

"I'm sure you will discover a way to put her right," the old wizard said. "And I'm sure Miss McDowell's mother will be a useful resource in the endeavour."

Hermione thought about Isobel's mother, Healer Minerva McGonagall. Despite having been friends with Isaac since their first year, she'd never actually met his mum. She worked odd shifts at St. Mungo's, and when she was home, she was often trying to catch up on her sleep. Isaac and Isobel's father, Marcus McDowell, or their elder brother Ivan, had usually carted the quad of friends around during summer breaks. Hermione only hoped that now Madam McGonagall would make time for her child, as she never had before in Hermione's memory. Albus was right. The young Hogwarts Matron was going to need the elder witch's experience on this one.

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><p>Minerva McGonagall, Administrator of the Maternity ward in St. Mungo's, sighed contentedly, having just finished a rare shared meal with her husband, Marcus McDowell. They'd been married for decades. The middle aged witch remembered fondly how when Albus Dumbledore had offered her the Transfiguration post at Hogwarts, Marcus had dropped to one knee, proposed, and begged her to turn him down, wanting to be with her and not have to live apart nine months out of the year. After consideration, she'd agreed to marry him, and here they were, three wonderful children later.<p>

They had nearly lost their oldest child, Ivan, the day the war against Tom Riddle had ended. Back then, things had been chaotic at best, and while Marcus worked days on the Auror Force, and she worked nights at St. Mungo's, September first had rolled around the year Ivan was meant to go to Hogwarts for the first time, and neither of them had been able to get off work to take him. Minerva had asked her friend, a fellow Transfiguration enthusiast, Lily Potter, to take Ivan to King's cross that morning. Lily had left her own three year old son at home with her husband, James, along with Minerva's three year old son Isaac, whom she usually babysat when both Minerva and Marcus had to work. Minerva had spent two decades regretting that request to Lily, as Riddle had attacked King's Cross that morning, and Lily had died protecting her friend's son, rather than returning home to her own child. Albus had arrived at King's Cross moments too late to save his protege's life, and Riddle had paid with his own. In a rare instance of Albus Dumbledore losing his temper and letting his emotions rule, the war had ended.

Lily's death had been hard on both families; the Potters and the McDowells. Young Harry would be raised without a mum: James Potter had never found another witch to catch his attention. At least, not yet. Minerva hadn't quite given up hope on that count. Ivan, while physically fine, had lost his hearing that day. Of course he'd been fitted with a hearing charm, so it didn't really disable him much, but Marcus had never really looked at him the same. They'd all mourned for Lily differently. Minerva had pulled away from the Potters, ashamed to look poor Harry in the eye. It was her fault he had no mother. Marcus, on the other hand, had put his grief into work, hunting for Death Eaters and other supporters of Riddle's with such vigor that it was only a matter of five years later before they made him Head of the Auror Department, where he remained to this day.

"I should probably get back," Marcus said, putting down his fork. "Departmental review this week, so…"

Whatever he'd been about to say about the departmental review was cut off by the sudden appearance of a phoenix patronus which Minerva recognized at once. It was from Albus. While she had studied for her completely unused Transfiguration Mastery under him, much as Lily had, they'd seldom interacted since her death twenty years ago. Seeing him reminded her of Lily - he'd introduced the two witches - and she imagined that seeing her reminded him of the late Mrs. Potter just as much. The pain was just too much, even after all these years. If the Headmaster of Hogwarts was contacting her now, it could only mean one thing.

"_Minerva,_" the phoenix said in Albus' voice. "_I'm afraid something has happened to your daughter - Madam Granger and myself believe she has been somehow Petrified. Please come to Hogwarts as soon as you can. I contacted the Ministry and they said Marcus was meeting you for lunch - if you are not still with him, it falls to you to pass the message on._"

With a hiss and a pop, the Patronus vanished, and Minerva stared blankly at her husband. Twenty odd years ago, it was common for people to be Petrified; Tom Riddle had developed a spell to do just that. There was no counterspell, and the only known cure was a potion which required the mandrake root; an already rare plant which Riddle's followers had made it their mission to bring to extinction. There were no mandrakes left, so far as Minerva knew. The color drained from her cheeks as she suddenly realized that there was a very real chance that her only daughter, her little Isobel, was as good as dead.

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><p>Hermione smiled softly as Marcus McDowell strode into her Hospital Wing. She'd met him a few times over the years. She wouldn't claim to <em>know<em> him hardly at all, other than as Isaac's father, but she hoped he'd find some comfort in a familiar face. The woman coming in behind him, worry obvious in stunning green eyes, had to be Minerva McGonagall, the McDowell kids' mother. Hermione knew she was a Healer, a very well respected one who primarily worked the maternity ward. The younger of the two healers now present in the room took in the appearance of the elder. Her hair was rich ebony, cropped in a sensible bob at chin length. The cut framed her high cheekbones nicely, giving her both a down to earth look, and one that, with the proper attire, would demand respect. The woman was thin, but not overly so. She had womanly hips probably gained via giving birth three times, and breasts that were evenly proportioned. She was, objectively speaking of course, a very attractive woman.

"You must be Healer McGonagall," Hermione stated, offering a nod to Marcus as she shook his wife's hand.

"And you are Healer Granger?" the woman replied. "I've heard a lot about you. I've every confidence that you'll find a way to bring Isobel back to us."

Hermione looked quizzically at Minerva. "Exactly whom have you been talking to about me?"

"Poppy," Marcus huffed. "The gossiping harpy. Good to see you, Hermione."

"You too, Mr. McDowell."

"At some point, you'll have to start calling me _Marcus_," he said kindly.

"You know her?" Minerva asked, looking confused.

"You do too, or you might as well," Marcus said, rolling his eyes at his wife. "God knows we've both heard plenty of stories about '_Mione_ over the years."

"Mione..._Her_mione...oh my goodness, it's a pleasure to meet you, at last," Minerva stuttered, face turning a bit red from embarrassment. "Isaac and Isobel speak so highly of you. Ivan too."

"And I adore all three of them," Hermione replied kindly. "Though I hope your confidence in my abilities as a Healer have not faded now that you have a list in your head of all the trouble I've gotten into over the years with the boys."

"Not at all," the older witch assured her. "If anything, it's made me feel even more at ease, as I know you have a personal interest in seeing Isobel through this."

"So, what's the plan of action with Isobel?" Marcus asked gruffly, warily eying his daughter's still form on a bed on the other side of the room. "Minerva mentioned that you normally would use a potion with mandrake, but…"

"Mandrakes are extinct, so far as we know," Hermione finished with a sad nod. "Honestly, at this point, I don't have plan of action. We called you right after we found Isobel, and Albus thought Healer McGonagall and I should confer…"

"Please, just _Minerva_, will do," the older witch insisted.

"...that _Minerva_ and I should confer before doing anything," Hermione finished.

"This wont be easy, one way or another," Minerva said. "I'll contact my supervisor at St. Mungo's and take a leave of absence until we find a way to put Isobel right."

"That's fine," Marcus said. "Will you be doing research from home?"

"If it's alright with Albus, I'd prefer to remain at Hogwarts with Isobel," Minerva said, eyeing her mentor.

"That's fine with me," Albus replied, "however considering that if Isobel has been Petrified by means of a spell developed by a Dark Wizard, it's not unreasonable to think that firstly, she was specifically targeted, and secondly, that whoever attacked her may very well strike again. If the target was because of her relation to you, Marcus, then Minerva may be equally vulnerable. I would suggest that she room with one of the Professors, for her own safety."

"She can room with me, Headmaster," Hermione offered. "If we're going to be researching together, it's only practical."

"Marcus?" Minerva asked, looking at her husband.

"Fine, whatever," he said. "Just do what you need to do to make Isobel well again."

"I'll need to go to St. Mungo's for an hour, then go grab some personal belongings from our house," Minerva said, nodding. "Then I'll return here, alright?"

"Just send me your patronus when you arrive and I'll show you to my quarters," Hermione agreed.

Sharing living space with this woman was going to be interesting, Hermione thought. It didn't seem out of order to offer Minerva a place to stay. After all, she was close to all three of the woman's children. She was a friend, by extension.

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><p>It was surreal, really, being back at Hogwarts. Minerva hadn't been to the castle since the day she'd turned down Albus' offer to teach here, all those years ago. Once upon a time, teaching had been her dream. After her mastery had been completed, the war had been in full swing, and she'd battled just as much as the next witch or wizard. During that, she'd more than once watched a friend die, and it killed her that she'd not known how to help them. After Marcus proposed and she'd realized she needed a different career path, choosing Healing seemed only natural. She'd made her choice and not looked back; not until tonight.<p>

"Are your rooms okay?"

Minerva turned to face Hermione Granger. Healer, and friend to her son, and mentor to her daughter. The irony in the fact that this young woman was also close friends with the boy she'd spent twenty years avoiding, Harry Potter, did not escape her notice. "It's fine, thank you Hermione," she said with a soft smile.

It had been a long day. She'd worked all morning, gone to meet Marcus for lunch, and then gotten the call about Isobel. From there, she'd gone to Hogwarts, then back to St. Mungo's to take a leave of absence - which required an obscene amount of paperwork to do, she grumbled to herself - and then from there to she and Marcus' home in Wales. She'd packed a bag quickly, and another bag full of books...

"Oh SHIT!" Minerva suddenly swore.

Hermione, who had just walked out of the spare bedroom, popped her head back in. "What's wrong?"

"I forgot the bag of books I packed," Minerva groaned. "I was in a hurry…"

"Well, books are a big deal," Hermione smirked, a knowing look in her chocolate eyes.

"Especially when many of them are quite old and may hold some point of reference on how to undo the petrification," Minerva stated with a frown. "It's no big deal, I'll just call Dobby."

On cue, a male House Elf with a tartan tunic popped into Hermione's guest room. "Yes, Mistress?"

"Dobby, would you mind bringing the blue satchel of books I left laying on the kitchen table at the house?" Minerva requested kindly. On an off-thought, Minerva wondered if Hermione was the type who thought House Elves ought to be treated like rubbish - she hoped not. She really didn't want to get into an argument about House Elf rights this evening. She knew that practically no one shared her views on the subject, but still, it was tiresome to always argue over it.

"Of course I cans, Mistress," Dobby replied. "But whys are yous at Hogwarts School of Witchcrafts and Wizardry?"

"I'm afraid that Isobel is unwell," Minerva explained softly.

Dobby the House Elf gasped. "Oh nos! Will Miss Grangers be fixing her?"

"You know Hermione?" Minerva questioned, surprise.

"I knows of hers," Dobby clairified. "All House Elves who wishes for freedom do, as when she trains for her mastery of wizarding medicine, she also studies how to takes care of elves."

"Did she now?" the ebony haired woman asked, looking up at her son's friend in surprise. "I didn't recall that being part of Poppy's syllabus."

"It wasn't," Hermione inserted. "I asked for books on the subject during my training with her. I believe House Elves should have rights equal to wizards, and I planned to do my part in keeping the population healthy until I'm not the only one who thinks that way."

"You're not the only one," Minerva smiled. "I happen to feel the same. Dobby here is a free elf, though when I bought him from the Malfoy family some years ago and freed him, he elected to remain in my employ."

"Minerva McGonagall, I think you and I are going to get along quite well," Hermione said, grinning.

The older Healer was inclined to agree.

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><p><strong>PLEASE REVIEW! <strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**And chapter two - lots of hints as to where the plot is going in this one. Pay attention! **

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><p><strong>April 20, 2002<strong>

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><p>Hermione was in the process of checking Isobel's vitals when Harry, Ron, and Isaac stampeded into her Hospital Wing. "Boys! This is a hospital, not a Quidditch pitch!"<p>

All three rolled their eyes at her, but quieted down nonetheless. "How's Isa?" Isaac asked tentatively after a moment.

"As well as can be expected," Hermione replied. "And your mum should be back shortly, Zeek. She just went to shower a bit ago."

Isaac McDowell smiled ruefully at Hermione's use of his nickname. She was the only one who called him _Zeek_. Anyone else who tried got shouted at by either he or Hermione in short order. It was their thing. "So you two finally met?" he inquired.

"She'll be staying with me till Isobel is put right, in fact," the young Healer replied. "What are you boys doing here, by the way?"

"Dad wants to search the castle," Isaac answered.

"And we wanted to help," Harry replied, cocking his head toward Ron.

"If it were Ginny over there," Ron said, "I'd expect my friends to help out, so I figured…"

"Is Mr. McDowell here as well?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, he'll be along," Isaac shrugged. "We buggered off after he and Dumbledore started to row."

"What about?" the brunette asked, concerned. She stepped away from Isobel, finished with her diagnostic, and joined the boys near the door to the wing.

"Not sure," Isaac shrugged, running his fingers through his curly, ebony hair. "Dad shouted something about having enough on his plate with some prophesy thing the Department of Mysteries is bugging him about, and not needing a sick kid on top of it."

Just then, Hermione looked up to see Minerva coming back into the Hospital Wing via the back entrance. "Minerva, look who dropped by," she said with a soft smile.

"Isaac," Minerva greeted, nodding to her middle child. "And you must be Ron and Harry."

Hermione watched the boys. Ron nodded at Minerva enthusiastically, offering a _yes ma'am_, but Harry merely shifted uncomfortably, only momentarily meeting her gaze. "Hey, Aunt Minerva," he said softly.

"Harry," the elder witch said. "It's good to see you. Merlin, how you've grown!"

Hermione knew that James, Harry's father, knew Minerva and saw her quite regularly, and that Harry had always referred to the older woman as _aunt_. Everytime she'd asked what the connection between their families was, however, Harry had found a way to change the subject. Once, he'd mumbled something about how Minerva had been friends with his mum, Lily Potter, and that Lily had died the same day Albus had killed Tom Riddle, but Hermione didn't know any more than that. She resolved to ask Minerva about it later.

"Is it just you and Mr. McDowell searching the castle?" Hermione asked, trying to break some of the obvious tension.

"Nah," Ron said. "Marcus has us three, plus James of course, and another three Aurors. If he'd been able to spare more guys, I bet he'd have fifty of us here, but there's some drama going on with the Unspeakables right now - they've got the Auror department chasing Death Eaters who we know have been dead for years."

"That's odd," Minerva put in.

"Same deal that Mr. McDowell…?"

"Oh for Merlin's sake, 'Mione," Isaac chuckled. "Just call my dad _Marcus_, already!"

"Fine," she said sourly, noting the look of amusement on Minerva's face. "As _Marcus _and Albus were arguing over?"

"Probably," Harry supposed. "We don't exactly have that sort of clearance to know for sure."

"I'd imagine you'll find out eventually, should the situation prove to be something more than rumors from Knockturn Alley," Minerva suggested.

"I'm sure you're right, mum," Isaac said.

The five of them chatted for another few minutes before James showed up and told them that Marcus would tan their hides if he knew they were socializing instead of searching the castle like they'd been ordered to do. While Ron insisted that they had been _searching _the Hospital Wing, Harry cuffed his friend's ear and he, Ron, and Isaac said their goodbyes and moved to follow James out of the Hospital Wing.

Just before they left, Hermione watched as James leaned over and pecked Minerva on the cheek. "You doing okay, love?" he asked.

"As well as one could expect," Minerva muttered. "Harry's grown so much since I last saw him, James."

"A boy will do that, in the space of twenty years," the older Potter grinned.

"It has not been twenty years…"

"Near enough, and certainly that long since you spent any real time with your godson," James chastised. "When are you going to let the guilt go, Min? You were not the one holding the wand, that day."

"But I should have been the one at the other end of it," Minerva replied cooly.

Her tone surprised Hermione, and suddenly the idea of asking Minerva about her connection to the Potters seems less of a good idea. Of course, there were other ways to find out what happened, she mused. Some time could be spared, in the next few weeks, to do her favorite thing in the world: research.

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><p>"Minerva," Marcus said stiffly as she admitted him to what was now she and Hermione's quarters. "I've got my team searching the castle for signs of the bastard who hurt Isobel. And I've had a word with Albus about how lax Hogwarts security is - to allow something like this… Headmasters have been dismissed for less!"<p>

"You've had an argument, more like," Minerva said, shutting the door.

"I've simply explained…"

"How this is his fault?" Minerva interjected. "How typical. Marcus, accidents happen…"

"This was no accident!" the brown haired man snapped. "Albus said so himself, remember? That Isobel was targeted because she's my daughter?"

"He said that it was a possibility," she corrected. "Not a fact. There is no evidence to support…"

"I'll find it!"

"Or fabricate it."

"How dare you?!" Marcus shouted. "Damnit, Minerva, I'm just doing what I must to protect my family!"

"Have you even considered that this may have been an accident? Perhaps a Gorgan…"

"A rare creature that is not likely to have got into the school unnoticed," he argued.

"And it is just as unlikely that someone cast a spell on her, a spell that has not seen use in twenty years!"

"I've spoken to Cornelius Fudge, about Hermione Granger…"

Minerva knew her scottish temper was on the verge of getting the better of her, so she said nothing as her husband of forty-four years continued to rant about how what happened to Isobel was all Albus' fault, or Hermione's fault, or the Minister's fault...it was always someone's fault for Marcus, even when in reality, it was no one's fault at all. But Marcus had to blame someone. It was how he expressed his hurt.

Neither of them noticed that Hermione had been standing outside the door, listening to the entire exchange.

* * *

><p>Hermione sighed in relief as Ivan McDowell greeted her with a big hug. After overhearing <em>Marcus<em> laying blame on her for Isobel's condition, it was nice to know that Ivan, like Isaac, did not consider her an enemy in this. All she wanted was to see Isobel back on her own to feet, smiling and laughing at stories of the stunts her Gryffindor mentor used to pull. Isobel always said that it was a good thing that Hermione had her Ravenclaw sense to keep her grounded, now.

Perhaps, Hermione mused, glancing over at Minerva, it was not the Ravenclaw which helped ground Hermione, but rather the McGonagall in Isobel. For some reason, even only knowing the woman for a couple days, Hermione felt just as at ease around Minerva as she did around Isobel. She wondered to what extent that feeling of ease could extend, with the older Healer. Around Isobel, Hermione had to keep a somewhat professional distance. Regardless of the fact that Isobel was her friend's little sister, the seventeen year old was still a student here at Hogwarts, under her charge and guidance, and it was wrong for Hermione to lean on the young lady for emotional support, as she might with a friend. In this, Minerva, perhaps, could be different. Also, with the state that Minerva's marriage seemed to be in, the elder witch could probably use some emotional support of her own.

"Hermione, it is...it's good to see you," Ivan said.

Hermione smiled at the young man's use of a contraction. While he kept a charm activated that allowed him to hear, that had not been invented until several years after his encounter with Tom Riddle had occurred, leaving him deaf. He still had minor speech issues - use of contractions being the most prominent one. "You as well, Ivan. What brings you to Hogwarts? Your sister isn't really… up for visitors, per say."

"I know," he nodded. "I was actually here to check on Mum. Isaac said that my father was here a few hours ago, and that he looked pissed after he left. I know she is a big girl, but…"

"I understand," Hermione assured him. "She's in our quarters."

Ivan raised his eyebrows. "You are sharing quarters with my mother?"

"And?"

Ivan just smirked. "Nothing. I have always thought that you two would get on well. A lot bloody better than she and my father."

"They don't seem to agree on much, do they?" Hermione asked thoughtfully. It was interesting to find that she was not the only one who observed the tension between the Head of the Auror department and his wife.

"No," he agreed. "Would you be so kind as to show me the way to your quarters, then?"

"Of course," Hermione said. She cast a quick monitoring charm on Isobel, as well as ones on the two second year Slytherins, and a second year Gryffindor, who'd gotten into a fight this morning and were still recovering. Some things never changed, she mused. The House rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin was as alive as it always had been. Hermione made a mental note to speak with Severus about his students later on. The fear of Snape might do the boys some good. "This way," she indicated to Ivan.

Hermione led Minerva's older son down to her quarters, and when they arrived, they were surprised to not only find the woman in question, but her younger son, Isaac, as well.

"Hello, little brother," Ivan greeted. "Mum."

"Ivan!" Minerva said, smiling. What brings you here?"

"Oh, the usual," he replied, smirking. "Making sure father left you in one piece."

Minerva turned and glared at her younger son. "Isaac!"

"Whut?!"

"Well as Isobel is unconscious, you are the only one who could have told Ivan your father and I had a… discussion," Minerva growed, folding her arms to her chest. "And I'm fine, thank you."

"Who was at fault this time?" Ivan inquired, raising an eyebrow in a way that Hermione now recognized as a trait he'd gotten from his mum.

"Fudge, or Albus," Minerva sighed.

"Or me," Hermione growled, forgetting that Minerva didn't know she'd witnessed that conversation. "Oh… oops?"

"Eavesdropping, were we?" the older Healer smirked.

"Oops?" she said again.

"Well, in that case," Minerva sighed. "Yes, your father seemed to think that Hermione was too young to be a competent healer, and therefore that Isobel being cursed by a spell not used in two decades _must_ be her fault."

Ivan and Isaac both stared at their mother incredulously.

"My thoughts exactly," Minerva huffed.

Before the conversation could continue, there was a knock at the door, and Hermione called for whomever it was to enter. Harry Potter strode confidently into the room then, but his step faltered when he spotted the three people who did not normally belong in his best friend's quarters. Hermione watched the exchange that followed with great curiosity.

Isaac saw Harry, then glanced over at his brother. "Uh, hey mate," he said awkwardly. "You looking for 'Mione?"

Harry bit his lip, staring for a moment at Ivan, who was now looking uncomfortably at the floor. Hermione had noted before that Harry seemed uncomfortable around Minerva, but his reaction to Ivan's presence was almost stifling at the level of tension. Minerva, for her part, looked at a loss of what to say or do, and Hermione was too confused to say anything at all.

"I'll come back later," Harry finally muttered, cocking his head towards Hermione. He didn't wait for a reply. He just left, with a slam of the door.

Silence enveloped the room for a moment, before Hermione looked at each of her companions in turn, and finally asking the loaded question. "What the _bloody hell _is the deal between you guys and Harry?"

"History," Ivan muttered. "History better left there."

"But…"

"Drop it, 'Mione," Isaac said sharply.

Surprised by his tone, Hermione complied. Just for now, she promised herself.

* * *

><p>Minerva nodded to Dobby as he set out the evening tea for she and Hermione. It had been a long day. The Aurors had been searching the school all day, which led to more trouble than not. Not only had they found nothing, but their presence had proved a distraction for the students, causing two students to trip on stairs and injure themselves, and an entire Potions class of fifth year Ravenclaw and Hufflepuffs to be sent to the Hospital Wing after an Auror had attempted to drill a student to see if she'd witnessed anything, resulting in her adding the wrong ingredient at the wrong time, and a cauldron to explode dangerously. Even Severus had been injured in the accident. Minerva had stepped in and helped Hermione with the injured, and between that, her argument with Marcus, and visit from Ivan, there had been time for little else.<p>

"Days like this you think maybe you should have picked a different career, eh?" she remarked to the younger Healer.

Hermione chuckled. "I'd planned to go for a Transfiguration Mastery at first, but I was not willing to apprentice under someone other than Albus, and he made it perfectly clear that he was not willing to take on anyone, including myself. I've always wondered why…"

"Why he stopped taking students?"

Hermione nodded.

Minerva sighed. "He had his reasons."

"You know what they were," Hermione stated, looking sharply at the older witch. It was not a question. Minerva had the answers the younger woman wanted, and she knew it.

"I do," came a quiet reply. "I will not violate his trust, but I will tell you this much: The last apprentice Albus took on was murdered in front of him, and it broke his heart. He viewed her like the daughter he never had."

"So he's afraid that if he takes someone else on, they he'll get close to them, and that something might happen?"

"Perhaps," Minerva said noncommittally.

The look on her face obviously said _drop it_, and Hermione seemed to get the message. "Alright then, onto a different topic - will you tell me what the deal between you, Ivan, and Harry is? I've never seen Harry so tense as he was when he saw Ivan today. What the hell happened between them?"

Minerva groaned internally. A part of her wanted to tell Hermione the truth. Those expressive, chocolate eyes begged for understanding, and Minerva didn't worry that she'd use the information inappropriately, but at the same time, she was not prepared to expose herself, or her son, to the potential upheaval that the information getting out might create. She didn't trust Hermione that much. Not yet, anyway. She could tell that the budding friendship between she and the young woman sitting across from her had the potential to grow at a rapid pace, but they weren't there yet. However, she knew that Hermione's curiosity was based on her concern for her friends, so she would settle for at least part of the truth.

"It's not about a conflict between them," she started. "But rather a shared history that is quite painful, and affected each of them profoundly. I'm sure you noticed the tension between Harry and myself as well - it relates to the same event."

"That's all you're going to tell me, isn't it?" Hermione frowned.

"For now, my dear," Minerva replied. "As Ivan said, it's history, and in some cases history is better left there. I wasn't even sure how much Harry knew until he saw Ivan this afternoon. And, as you two are quite close, and you don't already know however much his father told him, then you best respect his obvious desire to do just as Ivan suggested."

"I just...worry," Hermione explained. "I've spent every day since we were eleven looking out for Harry, as well as Ron and Isaac, and I hate seeing any of those boys in pain. I just wondered if there was something I could do to help."

"Not unless you can turn back time or bring back the dead," Minerva said, shaking her head. "And even if you could, I would suggest _not_."

"I did have a time turner, my third year," Hermione admitted with a wry grin.

Minerva took the comment as a good segway into a less uncomfortable topic. "Whatever for?" she asked.

"I wanted to take more classes than time would allow, and Professor Snape, albeit after much begging and pleading on my part, agreed to get me a time turner so I could take all the classes I wanted."

"You truly are a remarkable woman, Hermione Granger," Minerva said in awe.

She wondered what had caused her companion to become so driven. Not only was she absolutely dedicated to her job as a Healer, but she'd excelled in all subjects while in school. Minerva recalled Isaac relating that Hermione had taken all ten NEWTS, rather than the four or five that most seventh year students took. Then, Poppy had told her all about the apprentice who had not only passed, with flying colors, all the classes that the former Hogwarts Matron had set to her, but pursued other, related topics, using the information gained within her set assignments. Several of Hermione's _homework essays_, had become published papers with only minor editing. This woman was absolutely brilliant, and it almost scared Minerva how quickly she could feel a bond forming between herself and the younger Healer.

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><p><strong>Please feed the authors: we live on review! <strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello all! Another chapter or you - this one is a bit on the short side (compared to the others so far), but it's pact full of drama, and the next chapter promises to be...intense. While we work on writing that, please enjoy this!**

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><p><strong>April 24, 2002<strong>

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><p>The Aurors had left Hogwarts the afternoon before, and Hermione was glad of it. She was not keen on there being more accidents than they had already created via their interrogation of the students. Things had been so exasperating the last forty-eight hours that she'd broken down and Owled her parents - not something she did often. This morning, her mum had replied, as usual reminding her to not take work so seriously, and to relax now that the Aurors were gone. Hermione made a mental note to take some time to go visit her folks, soon.<p>

"I think I'd rather spend a weekend with one of my ex's than relive the last two days," Hermione remarked to Minerva, who was seated a few feet away, pouring over a book about petrification. They had spent the better part of the last three hours here in the Hogwarts Library.

Minerva looked up. "Well either you are lucky when it comes to ex's, or it's been a hellish forty-eight hours," she replied. She turned back to her reading, looking frustrated. "There has to be something in this library, it's the third largest wizarding library in the world. We just have to find a connection."

Hermione huffed, handing Minerva a new book to look through. "You've been here. Severus isn't exactly known for having a temper, but he was about ready to murder that Auror who distracted his Potions class. My ex's haven't been bad, really," she went on. "Just...less than understanding about my devotion to my job."

"You are extremely involved in your work," the older witch replied, "which is understandable at your age, but how have they not been understanding? They would have to have known, before they even got involved with you, that you spend most of the year at the castle. Unless you don't tell your boyfriends that you work at Hogwarts…" Minerva trailed off for a moment. "What if we are going about this the wrong way?"

"Girlfriends," the younger witch corrected. "And how do you mean?"

"Well what if it's..." The other healer paused and did a double take. "Wait, Girlfriends?"

"Figured Isaac would have told you," Hermione said, blushing slightly. "But yeah," she said, pointing to herself. "Lesbian."

Minerva blinked and shook her head. "Sorry, you just caught me a bit off guard."

"Not a problem, I hope?" the younger woman said, frowning.

"No, no, not at all," she said smiling.

"You were starting to say something…" Hermione nudged, bringing them back on topic. She really had no desire to talk about her personal life. She didn't need one more person pointing out how utterly lacking it was.

"Right, well what if it wasn't a spell? What if it was a creature?" Minerva questioned, looking to Hermione.

Hermione looked thoughtful. "Are you thinking a Gorgan, or something else?"

Minerva winced. "That's actually one area I don't excel at. Care of Magical Creatures was my least favorite class. But yes, something?"

"Not many creatures can petrify. Gorgans are honestly the only ones that come to mind," Hermione stated, "though it may be prudent to talk to Hagrid, or maybe Ron's elder brother, Charlie."

"That is a wonderful idea, Hermione," the older woman said, smiling.

Hermione looked down, trying to hide the blush she felt creeping on her cheeks. For _some_ reason, everytime Minerva said her name… with that dreadfully sexy Scottish accent … the younger Healer just melted. In her head, she was mentally slapping herself for the attraction she could feel building, but something else inside her was urging to let the feeling envelop her. "I think it's time to call it a night, on that note," she muttered. "It's late."

The older witch stood up, stretching. "I have to agree, my body isn't as young as it once was and pouring over books all day is hard on the back. We can pick up tomorrow where we left off."

Hermione stood and did the same, nodding for Minerva to take the lead toward the Library's exit.

* * *

><p>Minerva noticed her two sons eating dinner together in the Great Hall, and decided to take advantage of the rare moment, to pick a bone with the younger of the two. "Oh Isaac…" Minerva said in a slightly sing-songy voice. She tapped him on the head with the book she was carrying.<p>

"Ow!" he yelped. "What the bloody hell was that for, Mum?"

"You might have given me a head's up that your friend Hermione is a lesbian!" she hissed. She wasn't mad at him, not really. She'd just been slightly embarrassed by the situation and how she'd learned of the fact. Minerva McGonagall did not do awkward.

"Blimey," Isaac said, rubbing his head. "Sorry, didn't realize it mattered."

Minerva shrugged, taking a seat next to her boys. "It doesn't - I mean it doesn't bother me or anything."

"Then why do you care enough to mention it?" Ivan inquired, looking intently at his mother.

"I…" Minerva stammered, blushing at Ivan's suggestive tone. "I…"

"She's an attractive woman," Ivan commented with a grin.

"Oi!" Isaac gaped. "Bloody hell Ivan! Don't even say that!"

"What?" the elder brother shrugged. "Just making an observation."

"And hinting that it was of some relevance to me," Minerva countered. "I'm content with your father, for starters, and besides, I'm sure 'Mione wouldn't be interested in a much older woman, even if I were so inclined."

Ivan smirked. "So it's 'Mione now, huh?"

"Young man…" Minerva said warningly.

"Excuse me while I go barf," Isaac said, getting up from his seat. "See you later, Mum. Ivan."

For some reason, Minerva found herself feeling troubled by the notion that her younger son seemed so...against the notion of herself and Hermione being an item. No, not an item: that she might be attracted to the younger witch. It was a bizarre feeling - in all of her years with Marcus, she'd never once stepped out on him, nor ever felt inclined to do so. So far as she knew, he was much the same. They, despite their differences, were quite happy together. Every couple fought now and then, right?

So why was it that whenever Hermione smiled at her, Minerva felt butterflies in her stomach?

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><p><strong>May 2, 2002<strong>

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><p>Hermione threw yet another book on the table in front of she and Minerva, groaning with frustration. "There's nothing here!" she exclaimed.<p>

"Perhaps we just haven't found it yet," Minerva argued. "This library is quite large."

"No, I don't think so. I've been sifting through this library since I was eleven years old. If there was anything to be found, it would be in the books we're already pulled."

"You were in the restricted section when you were eleven?" Minerva asked, agast. "Am I to presume my _son_ was with you?"

"Well, um…" Hermione stuttered. "Maybe?"

Minerva glared. "I don't think that Marcus and I got nearly enough Owls from the Headmaster concerning the four of you. I hear stories now, from Isaac mostly, about what the lot of you got into at Hogwarts and I know that Albus didn't catch you even half the time."

"I have a hunch that he knew what we were into most of the time," Hermione mused. "But for some reason he always turned a blind eye. He always singled Harry out, treated him like he was special, though I don't have any idea why - not that Harry isn't special."

Minerva looked, for a moment, as if she was going to tell Hermione something, but then turned away and started leafing through one of the books on the table. Hermione decided it was not worth the argument to push things, so followed suit and looked at a tomb she'd already gone through.

"Alright, we know that Isobel's been petrified," Minerva said suddenly. "We guess that it was via that spell that Riddle used, and then we wondered if it might be a creature."

"Thus the last week of searching for creatures besides a Gorgan which is able to petrify someone…" Hermione muttered.

"Why are we looking into any of this at all?"

Hermione stared at Minerva, confused. "What?"

"I mean, what does it matter, who or what attacked her?"

"Because the only known cure for petrification is a Potion that we are not able to make," Hermione said, frowning. "And so the logical way to find an alternate cure is to find the source of the ailment."

"Perhaps," Minerva said after a pause. "We should not be looking into alternatives for a cure, but rather into some way to find, or revive the mandrake species."

Hermione's eyes lit up, understanding dawning on her. "Now _there's _an idea. We'd need to talk to Pomona - unless you happen to have a masters in Herbology to go aside your Healer training."

"I do have a second mastery," Minerva admitted. "Though it is in Transfiguration, not Herbology. I do believe we're better off talking to Professor Sprout."

"Alright," Hermione said, flicking her wand, magically sending their pile of books back to the appropriate shelves. "I think it's best we call it a day. Pomona is busy with classes till late this afternoon. We can talk to her after dinner, and then start work again tomorrow."

"No, I think I will keep working here for the time being," Minerva said, reaching up for another book.

Hermione sighed, and grabbed Minerva's wrist, stopping her. There seemed to be a sudden warmth upon the contact, filling the younger woman with an unnatural sense of arousal. Reminding herself that this woman was her friend's mother, Hermione shook her head, forcing the erotic images flowing into her mind now, away. "We've been cooped up in this library for a week. We are both in desperate need of some sun."

"I have to keep looking," Minerva argued, pulling away with a growl. "For my daughter. I can't stop."

"Minerva, I care for Isobel too. However, neither of us will be any good to her if we work ourselves into a zombie like state," the younger witch said, glaring. "Don't make me pull rank on you. You may be the more experienced Healer, but Hogwarts is _my _domain, and whilst you are here, you will adhere to my medical opinion."

"You wouldn't dare!"

Hermione pulled her wand, pointing it right at the elder woman's heart. "Outside. _Now._"

"But…!"

"You are behaving like a child, Minerva," Hermione stated, quirking her lips into a small smile upon seeing the look of utter surprise on the older woman's face. Hermione guessed it had probably been years since anyone had _ordered_ her to do anything. "If you keep it up, I'll have to take away your ginger newts."

Minerva stood there, her face muscles twitching in a way which Hermione read as an uncertainty of how to react. Finally, she decided, and burst out laughing.

Hermione lowered her wand, and grinned. "Can we go outside now?"

"Fine!" the older woman said tiredly. "You win."

"Your complexion will thank me profusely."

"Cheeky…"

* * *

><p>That evening, after dinner, and after speaking with Professor Sprout about the mandrakes, and if there was any chance they could be still out there, somewhere, Minerva and Hermione elected to retire. To their surprise, Marcus was standing by the door when they got there.<p>

"Marcus," Minerva said, eying her husband. He had that look on his face, one she knew well, that told her he was _playing hooky_. Once upon a time, that had been cute; him blowing off work to be with her. As the years had passed, it became less about wanting to see her, and more about wanting to get laid, and she found that she no longer liked that guilty expression on his face. "What are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to spend some time with my wife," he said casually. "Was hoping I wouldn't be too out of line to ask Hermione to give us some privacy."

"I'm not having sex with you," Minerva stated crisply. "Go back to whatever you're supposed to be doing. Right now, whatever your part to play in helping Isobel comes first."

"Minerva, if I take a short break, the world will not end," Marcus whined, not accepting her denial.

The older witch forced herself not to glare at Hermione, who was obviously trying not to laugh, certainly thinking about how Minerva had thought the opposite just a few hours before. "Hermione and I are turning in. It's been a long day," she said, waving her hand, indicating he should go.

"Minerva!" Marcus snapped. "You cannot just dismiss me like one of your junior healers! I'm the Head of the Auror Department, not to mention, your husband. If I say we need to spend some time together, than dammit, we're spending time together!"

The air around Minerva seemed to go cold. The audacity of this man was astounding. "And I am your wife, not your employee," she replied in a low voice. "And if you ever, ever presume to order me to do _anything_… I will divorce you quicker than you can say Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor."

"You wouldn't dare…"

"Care to test me on that, Mister McDowell?" Minerva inquired icily, drawing her wand and pointing it at her husband.

Out of the corner of her eye, Minerva noticed that Hermione had also drawn her wand, and she found herself wondering if, should she and Marcus end up dueling it out, right now, who Hermione would be defending.

Marcus drew his own wand quickly, pointing it at Minerva, though the older Healer saw his eyes flickering toward the Hogwarts Matron. "You cast so much as one hex at me, and I'll have you arrested!"

"Stand down, both of you!" Hermione ordered firmly, taking a step toward Minerva's position. "At once!"

Marcus seemed to consider his options for a moment, before finally lowering his wand, and casting a scathing look at Hermione. "You're out of line, Granger," he hissed.

"As I stepped in to prevent you two from dueling and in the progress, possibly injuring any students that may come by as they are headed back to their dorms, I am perfectly well within my rights to knock you flat on your arse should you not walk away," Hermione stated in a tone which begged no room for questioning how close to losing her temper she was. "_Now_."

Of course, Minerva had already heard this tone of voice coming out of those beautiful lips once today, so her own face did not contort in surprise at how authoritative Hermione sounded. Marcus, it seemed, was not willing to risk a duel with both women, so with an angry roar, he turned and stormed away.

"That went well," Minerva sighed. "Thank you."

"Whatever for?" Hermione asked, gripping Minerva's hand and pulling her toward the door to their quarters.

The contact sent a shiver down Minerva's spine - much like the one she'd felt earlier, in the library - and the sort of shiver it was, left the older woman once more confused. Arousal. For some damn reason Hermione's touch was _arousing_. More and more so as each day passed. "For being here. For supporting me through this," she murmured.

Hermione nodded. "Tea and chess?" she asked as they stepped over the threshold.

"Have I behaved enough to get my ginger newts back as well?" Minerva quipped.

The younger woman laughed. "Maybe."

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><p><strong>PLEASE REVIEW!<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Another chapter! I feel inclined to offer a warning. This chapter includes a character death, and said death is quite violent. Consider is as your disclaimer. I promise, neither Hermione or Minerva die (those of you who have followed my writing will know I cannot be trusted to keep Minerva alive...) Thanks bunches! - Sela (and Kat!)**

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><p><strong>May 3, 2002<strong>

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><p>A tawny Owl floated into the Library, causing Madam Pince to screech more than the owl was, and Hermione quickly offered the small creature a treat before shooing it off. Irma did not like Owls in the Library, not that the young Healer blamed her, but the Owl had been a request of Hermione's from the Ministry. She opened the letter and quickly scanned the contents. "Kingsley says that all Death Eaters who either were known to use the Petrifying spell, or were associated with a wizard known to use the spell, are dead or in Azkaban," she said. "That officially rules out a deliberate attack on Isobel, in theory."<p>

"I thought we'd stopped looking for cause, and decided to focus on simply countering the effect," Minerva said, frowning.

"I sent the Owl to Kingsley prior to us deciding that," Hermione explained. "Though still, it's good to know, right?"

"I suppose it does make me rest a bit easier," the older witch admitted. "Though I am officially curious on why exactly you're on a first name basis with the Minister of Magic."

Hermione grinned. "I was his campaign manager, fresh out of Hogwarts and had not yet decided on going for Healer training, when he moved to get rid of Fudge. It didn't make sense to say _Minister of Magic candidate Shacklebolt_ every time I spoke with him, now did it?"

"I would imagine not," Minerva chuckled. "Though I did not know you'd been his campaign manager."

"Few did," the younger Healer explained. "He knew I'd be valuable to him, but he also knew that others would look down on my age, so he hired me quietly."

"How'd he even know about you?"

"Kingsley is friends with Arthur Weasley - Ron's dad. Arthur told him about me."

"Ah," Minerva nodded. "Arthur's a good man."

"The best," Hermione replied chipperly. "Now, where were we?"

"Well we talked to Hagrid, and Charlie," Minerva began, "who ruled out a Gorgan…"

"And Pomona says that Mandrake is theoretically extinct, but that a contact of hers down Knockturn Alley may have a lead…" Hermione continued.

"I'm still in bloody shock that Pomona Sprout, of _Hufflepuff_, knows and willingly associates with someone who does business in Knockturn Alley," Minerva laughed. "What _is _the world coming to?"

"Severus knows Dupont as well," the younger woman reminded her. "I wouldn't be surprised if he introduced the two."

"I'm also still in shock, fifteen years after the fact," Minerva said grinning. "That Albus made a former Death Eater his Deputy."

"Albus is a bit mad…" Hermione reminded her companion.

"Well, yes," the other said. "You're right, as usual."

Hermione lowered her eyes, trying not to blush in front of this woman. It was on the verge of driving her insane, how bloody attractive she found this woman. There were a whole host of reasons she should not allow herself to become emotionally attached to Minerva; she was much older, married, had kids older than herself… did she mention married? No, being attracted to Minerva McGonagall needed to remain what it was. A simple, physical attraction. Period. There was no harm in gawking, right?

The two talked a bit more about what their own research had said about possibly finding Mandrakes still around. It had to grow in sulfur infused soil, and therefore there was a good chance of finding it where a dragon lived, or had previously lived. Hermione was obligated to remain at Hogwarts until term ended in a few weeks, and while Minerva could technically go out searching without her, for some reason she'd insisted on waiting. The only reason Minerva had given Hermione for waiting was, or so she claimed, that she was rubbish at Herbology and wouldn't know a Mandrake if it hit her on the head. Flimsy excuse, Hermione thought, but with as much as she enjoyed Minerva's company, she was not complaining.

* * *

><p>Minerva McGonagall was in a good mood. An unreasonably good mood, she reminded herself. She knew she ought to be a wreck right now, with Isobel being Petrified, and how much a tosser her husband was being at the moment, but having just come from lunch with Ivan, who had told her under no uncertain terms that he approved of the budding friendship between herself and Hermione. He'd said <em>relationship<em>, but Minerva had mentally amended his comment to _friendship_, just to keep the whole thing clear in her head. She had no choice but to admit that she found herself attracted to the younger woman, but that changed nothing. The poor girl was Isaac's age. There wasn't a snowball's chance in the underworld that Hermione would be interested in a woman (even if the younger Healer _was_ a lesbian) so much older, not to mention married…

No, however much they seemed to get along on the surface, they could never be equals in such a manner required for an actual romance… not that Minerva was even _thinking_ about a potential romance. She was married for Merlin's sake! _Married, married, married!_ Minerva scolded herself.

"Oh, Merlin!" a male voice, laced with fear, shouted.

Minerva recognized the voice, at once, as Albus', and worry enveloped her heart. Her former teacher did not scare easily. By the time the sound of spells flying reached her ears, she was already making her way toward where the sound had come from. "Albus, I'm coming!" she shouted.

Suddenly, a blindfold appeared over her eyes, and she stumbled. "What the…"

"Run Minerva!" Albus screamed. "Run, damnit! Don't you dare look back!"

"But Albus…" she hollered in return. Even the pause in her step was breaking the Healer's heart. There was only two reasons Albus would order her to safety. One, he was already dead, even if his body didn't know it yet, or two, whatever he was facing would absolutely mean her own death.

"You promised, Minerva!" Albus shouted back. "Now run! Tell Hermione it was… ARAGHHH!"

Then, there was silence. Minerva forgot to breathe for a moment, before a strangled cry from her own throat forced her remaining oxygen out, and then in again as she prepared for another scream. "ALBUS!"

No reply came, and Minerva knew exactly why. Albus Dumbledore, her mentor and friend, was dead. A few seconds later, she realized that who or whatever had just killed him was only a few feet from her current position, and so with every ounce of strength left to her, Minerva ran.

_He can't be dead_, _he can't be dead! _she thought as her feet thundered along. _He can't be dead!_

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><p>Finding Minerva on the floor screaming, covering her eyes with her hands, was not what Hermione has expected to see upon entering their quarters after she'd finished lunch. She'd known the older witch had gone to meet Ivan for lunch; they'd agreed to meet here after to discuss what they'd do next regarding research. "My god…" she said, rushing forward and pulled the other woman into her arms.<p>

Her movement had forced Minerva to move her hands, which served only to make Minerva scream louder. "No!" she exclaimed. "Can't look! He said not to look!"

"Who?" Hermione asked anxiously, pulling the distressed woman into her arms from behind, beginning to rock her. "What happened?"

Screams diminished after a few more seconds, and Minerva stopped fighting her hold. "Albus! Hermione, we have to go help Albus!"

"You have to open your eyes, hun," Hermione said softly, noting that while Minerva's hands had fallen in order to hold tightly to Hermione, her green eyes were still clamped shut.

"I can't," the older woman asserted. "Not until Albus says I can! I promised… I promised…"

Hermione was at an utter loss. Something had obviously happened, and it connected directly to the Headmaster. "Did someone attack Albus?" she asked.

"I don't know," Minerva moaned pitifully. "I didn't see. He said not to look!"

Hermione grabbed her wand out of it's holster. "Get Severus, now," she said, casting her patronus. If Albus was hurt somewhere in the castle, she needed to go find him, and she could not leave Minerva alone. Not like this. It occurred to her to send for Marcus, but she wasn't even certain he was in the castle at the moment, and the quicker she got to Albus, if the way Minerva was carrying on was any indication, the better.

She continued holding a softly sobbing Minerva, whose face was now buried in her chest. She rocked the older witch, knowing there was nothing else she could say or do until she had more information on what had happened to Albus. Worry threatened to force her to sobbing right alongside Minerva, but she knew she had to hold off. She had to wait for Severus.

It wasn't long before the dark haired Deputy entered her quarters, looking confused at the sight of his colleague on the floor, with the Head of the Auror department's wife in her arms. "What's going on, Hermione?" he asked.

"I found her, screaming," Hermione explained. "The only thing I've been able to get out of her is that something's happened to Albus. I need you to stay with her while I go find him."

"I'll show you where he is… where I saw him last," Minerva said suddenly, pulling away from the younger woman slowly, and looking up at Severus. Her eyes were red, her cheeks stained with tears, and her voice hoarse from crying. Still, her tone was steady and full of resolve.

"Minerva…" Hermione started to object, thinking that this woman was in no state to do anything, let alone join a search party.

"I'm going to find Albus," Minerva stated crisply, standing. She offered a hand to Hermione, and in a softer tone she said, "Are you coming?"

Hermione sighed, but took the proffered hand. "Of course, Minerva."

Severus, who'd been standing there quietly, drew his wand. "Lead the way, Min."

The shortening of Minerva's name, by Severus, surprised Hermione, but she knew now was not the time to inquire about the familiarity. Her inner lioness growled with jealousy as she wondered if they were once lovers. Then, logic kicked in and the younger witch remembered how long Minerva had been married to Marcus, and how Severus wasn't even born when they got married. Of course, the logic only served to remind Hermione just how out of her age bracket Minerva was...damnit.

Minerva pulled Hermione along, past Severus, apparently unwilling to let go of the younger witch's hand. The women, followed by the solemn looking Deputy, made their way up to the second floor, and down several corridors before Minerva stopped at a corner. "It was here. Just around there," she pointed.

"Shall we, Severus?" Hermione asked her colleague.

"I'll lead," the older man said, moving to do so. Hermione followed, Minerva in tow. The sight before them was enough to make Severus promptly vomit. Laying in a pool of his own blood, with his upper body totally separated from his lower body, apparently torn in two, was Albus Dumbledore. His eyes were wide open, showing the fear, and his lips were clenched together tightly, betraying how much pain he must have been in at the end. Hermione had never seen something so gruesome in her life, though she'd seen her share of blood during her healing training. She knew she'd break down later, but for the moment, she needed to identify how her employer had been killed, and assess the threat to the rest of the faculty and to the students that resided here at Hogwarts.

Minerva, Hermione noted, seemed to be in a state of shock. As much as she wished she could turn away from this horrid sight and comfort her friend, Hermione knew her duty. "Severus?" she questioned, eying the man who was attempting to regain his bearings after depositing his lunch on the ground.

"I'll be fine in a moment," he uttered. "Just…"

Hermione nodded, and after conjuring a chair for Minerva to sit in, and urging the older witch into it, facing away from the body and out a window, she made her way over to where Albus lay. She took some readings, marking time of death as about half an hour prior - probably just after Minerva had been ordered away by him. The way his body had been split in two was indicative of being grabbed by the legs and shaken with great force.

"Looks like a bite mark," Severus noted, spotting a large wound on Albus' hip.

Hermione looked to the other leg, and found an identical gash mid way down the Headmasters thigh. "Looks like fangs…" she agreed. "Like he was picked up by his bottom half, and shaken until…"

"I get the picture, Granger," Severus snapped, stepping away and looking pale. "Oh sweet Merlin…"

Suddenly, the answer came to the young Healer, like a punch in the gut. There was only one creature that not only would have had the power and stealth to take down and dismember the Headmaster of Hogwarts, _and_ had the ability to petrify. "It was a basilisk," Hermione muttered in disbelief. "There's a basilisk inside Hogwarts."

* * *

><p><strong>PS - I know each chapter usually includes two POVs from each Hermione and Minerva. In this chapter, Minerva's second POV is skipped. We really felt this scene ended the chapter well, so it's staying as is. You can expect the next chapter to resume the two and two system. As always, thank you all so much for reading! PLEASE REVIEW!<strong>


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